write me down like this
by HedwigBlack
Summary: "They are discovered in a warehouse on the outskirts of Berlin..." Remus and Sirius and finding heaven in the middle of Nazi Germany. Holocaust AU. Warnings inside.


_This is for the Quidditch League Competition Round 3. The prompt this round is to write a fic where the setting is based on real life events. My specific prompt was "the conquering of a nation" so I turned this into a Holocaust AU, though the focus is more on homosexuals during the Holocaust because 1) I like writing Wolfstar AUs and 2) I am not at all familiar with Jewish culture and I tried to tackle this topic as accurately and as sensitively as possible. Hopefully, I succeeded._

_The title and the lines of poetry at the beginning and end are from "Ashes" by Andrea Gibson which is beautiful and sad and inspired a lot of this and reminds me of Remus. _

_Warnings: homophobia, violence, torture, and all around unsavory topics. Obviously. It's a Holocaust fic._

_Chaser optional prompts: Biting, family, "Do what you want"_

* * *

"_**All they know of hate is that it couldn't beat the love out of me**_

_**that when they dropped me to the grave, I fell like a bucket into a well**_

_**and came up full, carving my lover's name into the skin of a weeping willow**_

_**that had spent its entire life laughing at the rain."**_

* * *

They are discovered in an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Berlin. The windows are smashed to glittering powder and a sloppily painted Star of David adorns the outer walls. They think that they will be safe, that no one would bother to come back here.

Remus' face is buried in Sirius' neck, and he's running a hand through silky black hair, when the warehouse door opens, and they are proven wrong.

So very wrong indeed.

* * *

"To the left."

Remus watches as the woman cries out, clawing at her husband's arms as two guards pull her away from him. They've all been watching this process- humans being herded like cattle and families being torn apart. The women and children and elderly go to the left. The rest go to the right. Most of them sport the Star of David on the front of their shirts. A select few, Remus and Sirius included, have been given a pink triangle instead.

The woman is dragged through a doorway to the left and within seconds her husband has been ordered to go through the door to the right as Remus knew he would be.

Just ahead, Sirius turns and catches his eye and he attempts a wry smile. It's the one he reserves for Remus like a secret- a secret that has been found out. This one act of familiarity earns him a kick behind the knee and he staggers forward, groaning in pain and a different guard approaches Remus, looking him dead in the eye, jabbing a finger forcefully into the pink triangle badge attached to the front of his shirt. "Don't forget why you're here," he says.

He shake his head and throws his shoulders back, marching forward with his head held high in an attempt to hold onto what dignity he has left and it occurs to him now that dignity is a fragile thing. It's an elusive concept that he can practically feel slip through his fingers as he follows Sirius through the door to the right and strips down to his underwear for inspection.

The two of them are poked and prodded and turned around for the guards to observe.

One of them grabs Remus by his hair, pulling his head back, and pries his mouth open with unforgiving fingers to peer down his throat. "A bit scrawny, this one," he says. "But he'll do."

A tall guard with a sinister smile nods in agreement. "Keep him away from that one," he says, jerking a thumb at Sirius who actually has the gall to look offended. It's heartwarming. Even now. "They might get up to some mischief. If you know what I mean."

And with that, they are both forcefully thrown into an empty cell block along with a few others. Cots line the walls and there is hardly room to walk around as the guards bark orders from the doorway. A thin night shirt is all that they are given to sleep in and Remus shivers in the cold. Frost has already formed on the small window above his bed that is equipped with a thin ragged blanket.

He climbs into bed brushing Sirius' hand as he does so. It's a small gesture, but it's enough. For now.

He's just pulled the blanket up to his chin, when his arms are yanked out from underneath it and placed at his sides. "Keep your hands out."

Remus stares at his tormentor in disbelief, but he only scoffs.

"No touching yourselves in here, boys."

As he walks away, Remus barely makes out his next words muttered under his breath. "Filthy queers."

His chest burns with rage and yet, it doesn't keep him warm for the night. A young man directly to his right gets caught with an arm beneath his own blanket and is taken outside for a beating, followed by a dousing with cold water. Remus shakes and squirms and resists the urge to hug himself for fear of the same treatment, and from his other side, he can just make out Sirius whispering.

"Remussss," he breathes. "Rem?"

Remus ignores him. And he loves him. He tries not to resent him. Hell, he tries not to resent _himself._ So he stays quiet, and he ignores him, and perhaps Remus falls asleep, though he can't be sure.

In the morning, Remus turns to the man to his right and he is blue-lipped and bleeding through the back of his shirt. He is dragged away to another cell block and neither Remus nor Sirius finds out his fate.

They soon learn that it's safe to assume.

* * *

Back and forth. Back and forth.

The snow digs into the raw skin of Remus' hands as he shovels it into a pile. He lifts what he can in the front of his shirt and he steadily makes his way around to the other side of the building.

They call it "work." When the pile of snow has successfully been moved to the other side of the building, they will tell the prisoners to move it back to where it came from. It does not take long before Remus' hands are cracked and bloody. His joints are stiff and awkward, and he has to use force to bend them.

The only good thing about "work" time is that he can talk to Sirius. He looks over and sees that Sirius' hands are bleeding too, staining the white snow while together they keep a steady pace. They don't say much, but it makes time pass more bearably.

Once, Remus drops half of his snow on the ground. Cursing, he goes down onto his knees to gather it up again, and Sirius pauses to wait for him. A guard swoops in to hurry him along. When he hesitates, he is pulled by his hair to the center of the camp square.

Remus is not allowed to stop his work to watch him be beaten, but he can hear his groans of pain and when Remus returns to gather more snow, Sirius is thrown down onto the ground beside him and spat on.

"Back to work!"

He sniffs and wipes away the blood that is creeping down his cheek, biting his bottom lip to stop it from quivering.

"I'm sorry," Remus whispers.

"Are you?" he asks, digging his fingers into the snow once more. "I'm not."

"You should have stayed home."

Remus can feel the angry flash of Sirius' eyes, but he doesn't meet them. He meant what he said, and it only makes his heart hurt all the more.

"Should have stayed home," he repeats. "Should have stayed with your family. You'd have been safe there."

"My family would have turned me in anyway," Sirius says. "You know that."

"You should have stayed away from _me _then," Remus says shortly. He gets up and starts his trek to the other side of the building. There is a trail of snow falling behind him because he's walking too fast and he can't keep it all contained in the front of his shirt, but he doesn't stop. Behind him, he hears Sirius protesting.

"This isn't your fault," Sirius says.

Remus sighs. "Of course, it's not."

"It's not. Don't think that."

Remus dumps the pile of snow on the ground and turns on his heel only to practically run into Sirius who's managed to catch up. He takes in the sight of his lover's bruised face, the thin shirt that's become looser around his frame in the last few weeks, the fire simmering behind his grey eyes. Remus hazards a few moments to pause and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Just don't get yourself killed, Sirius."

* * *

Sirius lasts two more weeks.

The night before the wind carries his ashes across the angry German sky, he turns to Remus as they lay in their beds, shivering in the cold.

"Remus?" he whispers.

Remus glances over at the door, but the guards don't seem to be in a violent mood tonight and are content to sit outside warming their hands around a small fire.

"Remus?"

"Hmm?"

"A few days before we got here I was out walking and came across our tree. You know the one. Near the Havel River."

"The willow tree?" Remus asks.

"Yeah. That one."

"What about it?"

Sirius folds his hands and places them carefully on his chest. "I was walking and I saw it and it had a yellow star painted on the trunk. Someone painted a yellow star on it and I thought 'what did a tree do to anyone?'"

"What are you on about?" Remus asks confused.

"I think about heaven a lot lately," Sirius says. "I never really pictured it before, but I think if it exists, there's a willow tree and we can stand under it and I can kiss you whenever I want."

"Don't say that too loud," Remus hisses.

Sirius ignores him.

"And instead of burning books in the square, we'll all burn our pink triangles."

"_Sirius."_

"Doesn't that sound nice?"

Remus has to admit it does. He allows the shadow of a smile to dance across his face and for a moment he sees the two of them, holding hands while they bask in the warmth of a thousand tattered shirts with pink and yellow symbols turning to ash before their eyes. It's the most beautiful sight he'll never see.

"It does sound nice," he says finally.

"Remus?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

Remus smiles sadly, and reaches out a trembling hand. Sirius takes it, squeezing gently. His arm is so thin, Remus thinks. It's so pale and thin and fragile and not like Sirius at all. If he wanted, he could probably snap it in two.

Instead he sheds a few tears for both of them and says, "I love you too. I do."

* * *

The next day, while they are sitting on the ground eating their day's portion of stale bread, Sirius is pulled up from beneath his arms, and marched away to the other side of the compound. There are rumors about what happens to people who are taken away. The old Remus would have attempted to shrug them off and at the very least pretend that such stories were untrue.

But in his heart of hearts he _knows_.

* * *

Sirius' bed isn't empty for long; new prisoners are being herded into the compound all the time. Remus doesn't sleep much anymore, but when he does, he dreams of a fire burning in the town square. Sometimes he is holding Sirius' hand as they throw their pink triangles into the flames. Sometimes it's a copy of _Mein Kampf_.

Sometimes he is standing alone, warming his hands in the heat given off by Sirius' bones crumbling like firewood.

And sometimes their willow tree, their own personal heaven, is set on fire, its reflection rippling on the Havel River, and growing ever larger.

* * *

"Let's go."

Remus' arm is roughly twisted, until he is forced unsteadily to his feet. Then he hears the voice again, reaching him through a thick fog. "Let's go."

"Go where?"

The guard marches him across the yard, and he follows blindly. His mind has gone weak from hunger and the images that blur his vision don't make any sense.

There's a room unlike any room he's been in so far. There's a single light dangling from the ceiling and a table where he is forced to sit down. Someone takes his measurements, checks his pulse, peers into his ears.

"What… what are you doing?" Remus asks weakly.

"I'm going to fix you," is the reply.

The man comes into focus. He's blue eyed and wrinkled and he smells of something bitter. His white coat is covered in dark brownish stains and it turns Remus' stomach. He dry heaves and falls onto his side on the table.

The man who Remus supposes is a doctor doesn't have much sympathy. He pulls him back into a sitting position.

"Why are you going to fix me?" Remus asks suspiciously. "I don't understand."

"Because if I can cure you of your homosexual tendencies, then _maybe_ you can be fit for society, and _maybe_ we'll let you go. Now, open your mouth."

The man shines a light down Remus' throat, and makes a disapproving noise.

"Do what you want," Remus says bitterly, "but you can't fix me."

"What makes you say that?" the doctor asks lightly. He sets a heavy bag of instruments down on the table.

It takes all of the energy Remus has left. With both hands he leans to the side and shoves the bag onto the ground with a deafening crash. The doctor only looks at him in disbelief.

"Because I'm not broken."

The doctor half carries, half drags him back out the door and hands him off to a guard, saying something about "not wasting his time."

Remus isn't taken back to his cell block. He's taken to another part of the compound. He's stripped naked and shoved into a room with a few other men, all battered and shaking and skeletal. There is another door, leading somewhere that none of them know.

They don't care either.

Remus' last thought before going through it is that he hopes that Sirius, wherever he is, is proud.

* * *

**"Look at that moon.**

**I am a pebble in her hand,**

**a harmonica held to the mouth of the river where**

**nothing**

**ever **

**burns."**


End file.
